The Playboy's Pursuit

CHAPTER 7:

Deception


"Yes, that many galleons. And I want it posted in tomorrow's issue." She hung up the phone and dialled another number.

"Hello, Krum?"

"YES!" the man on the other end shouted.

Maggie rolled her eyes. "For heaven's sake Viktor, I can hear you; there is no need to shout."

Clearly he still had trouble getting used to the Muggle device of a mobile phone. They were good Muggles. When wizard contraptions didn't work, you could always rely on Muggle technology to get the job done. She just wished the storms hadn't disabled the airports, then that damned doctor would be out of their lives already.

"What do you want Magda?"

She hated that named. "Maggie. This conference is going to take a few days, why don't you see how our little doctor is fairing all alone in the storm, hmm? You know, keep her company?"

Viktor sighed over the line, "I thought you said you wanted them together, why do you want me to tear them apart?"

Men, ugh! "We are not tearing them apart, just putting a little pressure on them. You didn't see them last night, they seemed… close."

"Oh and what are you planning to do then?"

Did she just hear giggling over the line? It was joined by a playful moan. Damn that man, he could never keep his dick in his pants. At least Oliver played one at a time… for a very short time these days. "Nothing much, maybe get the tabloids involved, bribe a girl to pash him, who knows. Just do something in public so the media hits on; you're both big enough personalities for the tabloids to catch."

"Perhaps." And with that he hung up.

She wanted them together, only for a moment before she snatched it away from them. Just like he'd taken a prosperous future from hers and left her out of his self-obsessed life…what they could've had with their little…she didn't think about that. It hurt too much to lose a part of you and the man you wanted…

Maggie sighed as she headed to her appointment at the resort's massage parlour. She'd play the matchmaker, and then she'd become the match-breaker: it all worked out well for her in the end.

She redialled her phone. "Hello Rita, are you busy tonight…?"


Oliver was desperately trying not to fall asleep as the head-honcho blabbed on about the Christmas Cup. Bobby however wasn't as patient as Oliver and had fallen asleep, his head resting against Oliver's shoulder. His friend's silent snoring along with the monotone droll of the chairmen had started to ire Oliver, who began pushing at Bobby's head with his shoulder.

"Get off you idiot!" Oliver muttered to Bobby, who didn't budge and made a foul noise through his nose. "Get up!"

Maggie was glaring at her two captains. "Shut up Oliver, don't embarrass us!"

Oliver persisted in budging Bobby's head off his shoulder; though not as violently as he did before as he was starting to draw attention. "I'm embarrassing you? The galoot's asleep!"

Maggie shook her head, put her hands on her face and turned away pretending to not know the two men. Luckily for them, their president Philbert Deverill was sitting at the top with the rest of the Official Party.

"The original plan was to have the Cup played in London; but as this awful weather does not seem to dissipate, we have either the choice to relocate or simply not play the Cup this Christmas…" one of the officials said, causing an uproar in the Dome.

Oliver should've been paying attention, but Bobby's head was annoying him immensely. He folded his arms in annoyance as Bobby made himself comfortable against Oliver's shoulder. A wicked smile formed on Oliver's face as he looked down at Bobby. Oliver kept nudging his shoulder knocking about Bobby's head: he built up the speed before moving his body, causing Bobby's head to come crashing down on Oliver's metal chair.

"Holy Fu-!" cursed Bobby as he nursed his head. "What the hell's the matter with you?"

Oliver would've laughed his head off hadn't the whole room looked over at them. Instead he covered his mouth with his hand and bit his thumb to stop laughing.

"Mister's Wood and Rice care to share?" called the official.

Oliver stood and saluted the man, as did Bobby, who was still glaring daggers at Oliver, but did it for the chuckles heard around the room. "Nope lads! Simply a mere incident which was blown out of proportion. Please continue…"

"Yes do," interrupted Bobby. "It was invigorating stuff."

The man took off his glasses and folded his hands in front of him on the table, "yes, well Mr Rice I'm sure you would've noticed had you not been asleep the last hour. Now if you'd please sit, I'm sure we'd all like to continue this meeting as soon as possible."

"Pft, un-bloody-likely," Bobby muttered and sat back down. The meeting continued.

"Damn this Christmas Cup. I mean who bloody wants to play Quidditch on Christmas?" Bobby whispered to Oliver. "Actually don't answer; I know these days you'd prefer Quidditch to sex; so why would a Christmas match be an issue, right?"

Oliver elbowed him under the table, earning both of them a vicious glare from Maggie. "Depends on who I was having sex with…." His lips quirked as he thought of the little witch at his house. Probably tucked in bed, in his shirt, her long curls cascading about the pillow, her cheeks flushed by…yeah right, she was probably setting up a battlefield for when he returned home to mutilate him.

"Oh?"

"Well if I had to do it with Maggie, then yeah I'd rather play Quidditch… hell even wax my balls," he knew she was eavesdropping; her face was going red and her lips pursed. "But if it was a certain shrew currently inhabiting my house…"

Bobby scoffed a little too loudly.

"Ms Carrie!" snapped the annoying man again. Oliver had to admit he was quite impressed with the man's surveillance of the whole room, seeing as it was a huge dome with over 1000 people in it. But then, he supposed, it didn't help that Bobby was making quite a scene. "Could you please settle your captains? We do not need further disruptions!"

"Oh yes sir," said Maggie; unfortunately for Oliver and Bobby, she sent them a hex under the table, an imaginary hand squeezing their necks to suffocation.

"Will you two behave?" she shot Bobby a satisfied smirk as he was making painful, yet silent, grunting sounds; but when she glared at Oliver, his eyes promised actual strangulation. She took the spell off them. "Right, well shut up and stop acting like children."

Oliver took in a deep breath as the bind on him dissipated and looked at Bobby, who sent him a wink and pointed to his wand.

A few hours later Oliver had realised what he had done: sent a leg-binding spell on Maggie so when she stood up, she fell straight to the floor, flashing the room full of people. Bobby ran for his life when she had realised what he did, chuckling all the way.


Six torturous hours later and it was decided that the Christmas Cup would be held, despite the weather on the day. The players were professional enough to withstand the extreme temperatures and there would be spells and charms to prohibit the weather's brutality. The charity-based Ball would still be held to raise funds for the children's ward at St Mungo's. Oliver thought Hermione would be ecstatic that the Quidditch board decided to raise funds for her cause this year.

Puddlemere and New Zealand's Wellington Warriors were the two teams playing for the Cup as both were the champions of Northern and Southern leagues respectfully; some other teams, such as the Chuddly Cannons would play friendlies before the official match.

"Well Lav isn't too happy about this conference," muttered Ron who had met up with Oliver as he casually followed a speedy Bobby out of the Dome. "Three days away paid break doing nothing. Completely irrational of her if you ask me."

Oliver chuckled. "Hormones out of place after the birth?"

Ron flung his hands. "Oh I wish it was only after the birth: this seems to be a permanent malfunction."

Lavender had given birth to twin girls a few days ago and was still in St Mungo's hospital. Lavender insisted they be called Rose and Daisy because they were her favourite flowers, while Ron wanted to keep tradition and call them by their mother's name (or rather because he wouldn't hear the end of it from his own and decided that calling one of his daughters Molly would shut her up). So in the end they came to a compromise; and called them Molly-Rose and Daisy-Anne. "I have to see if I can get out of here so I can go back to the hospital."

Bobby had just returned, puffing from his escape of Maggie's wrath. "I am so freaking unfit. Anyone seen the witch?"

Suddenly had taken on the form of a toad. Turns out she had been right behind him. Bobby bouncing around angrily. "Serves you right prat." She turned to the other two. "Hello Ron, how's Lavender?"

Unfortunately for Ron, his wife and the grasshopper were good friends, and it didn't help that his sister Ginny, a sport's journalist, was associated with her too. "Still in St. Mungo's. I'm hoping she can stay there for a while…only because she'd get better help from the healers there than with me at home of course…"

Surprisingly she chuckled and stroked his shoulder, turning Ron's face into a bright shade of red. "Oh you are cruel! Send my love won't you?" she then turned to Oliver and shot him a glare. "As for you Wood, what the hell were you and Rice doing in there? You embarrassed all of Puddlemere!"

The toad Bobby had hopped onto Maggie's shoe and started ejecting some mucous on it, distracted Oliver. Maggie shrieked and sent Bobby flying. "Oh you foul ass! Merlin, why do I have to put up with this?" she muttered and was about to storm off before she sweetly added, "Oh and by the way Wood, tell Hermione she looked pretty average in your shirt."

Oliver glared at her back as she walked away; he didn't bother to look at Ron who he assumed was staring daggers at him.

"Good," Ron said. "It's about time she had a little fun."

Oliver raised a brow, "Oh? No threats, no hexes?"

Ron shrugged, "Only if you hurt her, then will I sic Harry on you." Ron sent a sly smirk his way. "No doubt she's making it difficult for you?"

Oliver smirked, "She thinks she's going to tame me."

"She has a way about her," Ron added, then became sombre. "Look, it's not my business what the two of you may get up to. But, from experience, she'll probably say things to hurt you, not because she's mean spirited, but because it's safer for her." Ron shook his head. "She's been carrying some baggage since Krum, so just let her know straight up what your limits are."

Oliver clenched his jaw. He knew he wasn't perfect, he'd done a lot of shitty things in his life, but he wasn't a monster. He didn't frolic about because he wanted to, he needed release, he needed to escape from himself and if there were women willing enough to do it, then hell, why not?

He had found a woman or two he'd considered settling down with, but they only wanted his cash and lifestyle. Hermione may have reservations about him, but on the other hand, how could he trust her? Perhaps her defensive streak was just a ploy to sell a story to the tabloid that she had been another one of Wood's girls.

He knew it and he was pretty sure she did too. What happened between them and this little affair they'd concocted stayed between them and probably wouldn't last outside the next few weeks. So how could they hurt one another? By falling in love?

He scoffed at his own thought. Love, right.

"So what are you doing tonight?" he asked changing the subject.

"Sleeping and eating; probably at the same time." Ron yawned. "You?"

"I was planning to go out to the pub," try to drown away the haunting thoughts of the witch lying in his bed who was going to make it difficult for him to share it with her. "You want to come along?"

"Sure why not. But I'll have to be back home at around 3:30am; my coach doesn't like me staying up late." Ron winked.

Oliver chuckled and said his goodbyes; an angry Bobby hopping behind him.


It was about 12 o'clock and Ron had had a bit too much to drink. He was rocking back and forth in his chair singing 'My Humps' much to the dismay and amusement of all the Quidditch players in the bar.

Bobby had turned back into his human form, but didn't feel much like partying. His body was covered in spots, a side-effect from the transformation, and he had to resist the temptation to poke out his tongue. And he had a damned hankering for bugs.

A gorgeous redheaded waitress came over to their table, hips in full swing, dramatically flicking her hair over her shoulder. Bobby couldn't take his eyes off her breasts, Ron was still too busy singing and Oliver well, usually he would've tried to charm her, flirted with her, but something was holding him back. Some internal nagging feeling that he couldn't quite put his finger on. But he still watched.

"Hey Mr Wood, would you like a refill?" she bent down as if to fill his glass, exposing a full view of her generous chest.

"Sure why not," he didn't look down; he kept his eyes on hers.

She smiled at him and started to pour, however missed some of his glass and spilled down his pants. "Oops." She grabbed a napkin and started to pat him down, a little too close he noticed. "I am so very sorry."

He didn't think so. "It's all right...Lola," he glanced at her name tag. With a smile he took the napkin of her, which seemed to surprise her as her hand now touched him. She slowly moved it away.

"If there's anything I can do to repay you," she put on hand above her breast and one gently on his shoulder, "please let me know."

He noticed how she bit her lip, "I'll keep that in mind."

She smiled and winked at him, walking away with a full swing of her hips.

Bobby didn't take his eyes off her. "What the hell was that?"

Oliver merely shrugged and took a sip of his drink. "She poured me some beer."

"Pouring herself onto you more like it," Bobby shook his head. "I don't know how you do it."

"Well I'm not interested."

Bobby roared with laughter, causing a drunken Ron to stop his singing and join in on the laughter, though he didn't quite know why. "The bait's dangling and you don't want a bite?"

"The hook's rusted," he took a big swig of his drink.

Bobby winked at him, "Or are you a little distracted?"

Ron piped in, asking drunkenly, "Hermione? How is she? I haven't seen her over a few weeks!" It seemed he forgot their previous conversation.

"She's been trying to call but the lines and networks were cut off believe me, she would've if she could."

When they'd been locked in the room together, Hermione would mutter things to herself, which kept Oliver both annoyed and amused for ages. She'd worry about Lavender's pregnancy and when the twins were due, "Oh no! Lav's going to think I snubbed her! I wonder if she has had the baby? Or babies as she thinks, but I don't believe in that hocus-pocus anyway…oh God, Crookshanks!" she'd then banged her head either against her hand or the wall. Other times she'd think about the children in the hospital, her mother and some odd fellow called Johnny.

Ron stroked his chin and sent Oliver a mischievous glance. "You two are a couple or something, eh?"

So much for it not being his business. "Why is it that a man and woman cannot simply be friends? That in his moment of chivalry, he helped an old friend in her time of need…" there wasn't any point going over this again to a drunken Ron.

Ron sent him shot him a bored look, "When there isn't sexual tension between the two then they can. At the Quidditch fair day, you could slice it up and serve it, it was that thick!"

"I'll tell you what," slurred Bobby, it seemed the alcohol had started to take effect. "If Oliver wasn't in the picture, I'd ask her out."

Oliver rolled his eyes, but something had irked him about what Bobby said. "Even though I'm not, I doubt she'd be interested."

"I mean look at her seriously. She wears a jumper and looks hot." He leaned in, "She's not like the other girls who fling themselves at you, she's got the pretty face, those curves… and she's smart! She's got morals and she'll fight for them…she's got those…"

"Bobby stop drooling," Oliver handed him a napkin; he literally was drooling, though Oliver suspected it was partly because he had just transformed from a toad. "We're currently just friends." But that didn't mean he was about to let someone else have her.

"Meh," Ron didn't believe him for a second.

"And besides, I'm not in her good books at the moment."

Ron laughed. "Why, insult her old S.P.E.W. organisation?

"No actually," Oliver muttered, standing and took a final swig of his beer. "She got a tad insulted when I insinuated she'd be begging me to sleep with her."

Bobby and Ron, both slightly a little tipsy, opened their mouths in shock, before forgetting what Oliver had said and ordered another beer.

Oliver left them singing "I will always love you" and headed for his hotel room, with a weird feeling that someone was watching him. He stopped to autograph some signs for fans, but the tingling feeling didn't leave him.


Though Rita Skeeter adored Oliver Wood, she disliked Hermione Granger with a vengeance. The little witch knew too much about her; more than she liked. So when Maggie had called to try bring her down a notch, she had been all in.

She was currently apparating to Oliver's hotel room snapping pictures from a distance, ready to capture the moment where Oliver and the plant would emerge from his room.

She'd been waiting for an hour before she'd seen Oliver emerge from the elevator and walk to his suite. When he shut the door she hurried over to the door, setting up a set of Extendable Ears.

Her eyes glittered as she listened to the conversation behind the door. Maggie would love this. Biting her lip to stop herself from giggling she quickly hurried over to her hiding place as footsteps thundered towards the door.

A pretty blonde looking woman exited with a shirt-less Oliver, his hand tight on her forearm, his face dangerously dark and brooding as he shut the door in her face.

The woman looked around for Rita and glared at her as she approached. "I told you it wouldn't work. The night he was at Malfoy's club he came to me after and told me it was over. I wasn't supposed to see him again."

Rita shrugged and rubbed her glasses, before putting them up to the light, checking for smudges. "Oh Pish posh, you didn't have to sleep with him. Though what a scoop that would've been," she added silently. She looked up at the dishevelled blonde. "You can go now I have all I need. Maggie will reimburse you."

She started up and was heading away before the blonde spoke up. "We shouldn't be doing this, it's not fair."

Rita scowled. "You're a courtesan you do this all the time, and since you're getting paid I don't see what the problem is." She smirked and before she apparated added, "Besides sweetie all's fair in love and war. And one day when you get a decent job, you'll understand."


The next day a game was organised between some of the players from the Northern League playing against the Southern League. It was supposed to be a friendly, but the tricks and pranks they played on each other were less than friendly. Last year one guy ended up with a rubber knife stuck into his side, another with fireworks burning the inside of his mouth.

Oliver was excited, he hadn't played a full game in about a month since winning the English Premiership, and the thrill of the game was appealing to him. Bobby decided not to play, pathetically hung-over from the night before, and still randomly hopping about when the mood should strike. Bobby had gotten Maggie back though; he had enlarged a huntsman spider to the size of a dinner plate and hid in her bed…and well…

All Oliver heard from the room next to his was the simple; "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU RICE!"

He put on some dark jeans and a red singlet top, which fit a little too well on his broad frame, before walking out with his broom toward the other players. Looking around he was surprised not to find his Viktor Krum at the conference. In fact he was really surprised.

He decided to ask Maggie as she burst through the doors. "Bloody Rice. Oh what do you want Wood?" she asked with annoyance.

"Where's Krum?"

She laughed at him, he wasn't impressed. "Wow you really don't know much do you? Wood, Krum's retiring remember? He's over at Puddlemere Stadium in the office, you know learning the ropes. Since he won't be playing at the Cup there's little reason for him to be here."

That brought him up short, remembering the courtesan in his room last night. God, he hoped no one saw her coming out of it. "So what, he's taken over already? Then what's Deverill doing here?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "He's here until the end of the season, so after the Christmas Cup. And besides, if I were you, I'd be more concerned about how to explain a certain article to a certain bit- er, witch." She gave him a collagen-induced pout. "Poor Oliver never could keep it in your pants could you?"

The colour drained from his and he grabbed her arm. "What are you talking about?"

She looked down at the tight grip on her arm and raised a brow. "Be careful Oliver, we wouldn't want the rumours to be true. Anyway, I really would love to stay and chat, but I'm off to the spa. Have a good game Wood." She said and ran a finger over his exposed shoulder, before laughing and walking off.

"She gone?" asked Bobby, this time checking to see if she was behind him.

"Yeah, off to the spa. Maybe you could finish her off and drown her?"

"Too tempting. And I don't want to get wet. You off to the game?"

"Yeah, got nothing better to do." Oliver answered simply. But he had to get a hold of the paper. Now.

Bobby's brow rose. That was weird. Since meeting Oliver back in their reserve days, he was obsessed with Quidditch, he'd wake up at four and start training at five; he'd even end training a few hours after it had ended. He'd train mercilessly at the gym for hours on end, and put the game before any events in his personal life. Something was up.

Just as Oliver was about to exit with the rest of the guys, Ron came rushing up. "Where are you off to?"

"The game. Where's the fire?"

Ron scowled, "Have you seen the papers? God Wood, they did a number on you," handing Oliver the Prophet.

His eyes skimmed over the article, his jaw was clenched so tight Ron swore he heard teeth cracking.

…but where is his new found flame? Sources at the hospital say Dr Granger is taking a well-deserved break, but if this image is anything to go by, could it be that Wood is keeping her prisoner?

"Goddamn it!" he swore and threw the paper in the rubbish. A few of the people around him flinched.

"I won't question you Wood, but don't let it get to you." Ron said.

Oliver's dark gaze swung to Ron who didn't flinch at his friend's anger. "You believe this rubbish don't you? That after the lecture you gave me, I went out and got myself a whore? Bloody hell, Ron. I walked into my room, got ready to sleep and –" he swore. "I'm not explaining myself to you damn it." Just as he was about to storm off Ron grabbed his arm.

"Hell Wood, I don't give a shit about this rubbish. And I don't believe it. But if there is anything happening between you and Hermione and she finds out…"

Oliver winced. That's why he was so mad. If she found out, any sort of progress he'd made with her would be destroyed. "Well since nothing's going on, at least not the way you think," Would he believe that his friend was letting herself be seduced? "The only things she'll lecture me about are STD's. So if you don't mind, I think I'm going to ditch the game. Or who knows, maybe I'll kidnap a poor woman and beat her up. Or maybe whip her into compliance. I might have to phone a friend, tough choice."

Ron looked over to Bobby who had the paper from the trash then back to Oliver. "Look if you want you can come with me to St. Mungo's; I've got to see Lavender before she sends her mother after me." He winced

Oliver was battling with the angel and devil on his shoulder. One was telling him to bask in his anger; the other encouraging him to go to St Mungo's and check up on Hermione's patients. The other argued that he did not owe her anything; while the other thought it would be a nice gesture.

"He'll go," said Bobby, "and if it's alright, I'll sneak off with you too. Who knows, maybe we can owe the kids the sometime for the week they missed?"

"Sure," he pulled out the Portkey, a tiny replica of a snitch. "We've only got three hours though." They all put their hands on the snitch, and were off to St Mungo's.


"What are you doing here?" a startled Hermione asked as she opened the door.

"I could ask you the same question." A bored looking Viktor Krum answered.

Hermione scowled. "Perhaps, though I wonder. I mean, considering that you know Oliver is at the Quidditch conference, just who were you expecting to open the door?"

He ignored her and pushed past her into the house. She sent him a quizzical look. "What? You expect me to stand outside in the cold and rain? Come now Hermione, you once had impeccable manners."

She folded her arms and followed him in. "And once you weren't a sadistic, chauvinistic loser, but we all change." She scowled as he made himself comfortable on Oliver's chair. "What do you want Krum?"

"To keep you comfortable of course." He said it as if they'd been friends the last few years instead of bickering ex-lovers.

She continued to stand. "I assume you mean 'company', but of course I never did find your stupidity charming. You should leave you know."

Krum leaned forward casually playing around with ornaments adorning the table. "I don't think he cares, he's too busy having fun." His eyes glittered as he stared at her below his brows. "You have seen the papers no?"

No she hadn't, it seemed Oliver didn't get the mail posted daily, that or the weather was prohibiting the owls to fly. "No, I have not seen them. I haven't left this house in days."

"Here," he whipped out the Prophet, a bored expression on his face.

"How convenient," Hermione muttered as she took the prophet. "Not planned at all." Without another word she put the paper on the table and went to make coffee, having accustomed herself to Oliver's house. She ignored Krum who was walking around without a care in the world.

"So how have you found it here the past few days?" he opened up a few draws and casually peered inside.

"Fine." She twitched but ignored him.

"Eager to get back?" he picked up a few trophies.

"Yes." He was making his way toward her now.

"It seems cosy enough. Nice and close." He came up behind her.

She turned to glare at him. He was closer than she thought, his body mere inches from hers. She gulped, her heart thudding; whether she liked it or not, he always had some sort of effect on her. "What are you insinuating? That Oliver and I are having an affair?"

He shrugged and took the coffee out of her hands. "Well not anymore, I mean he wouldn't be doing things like this if you were, no?" the threw the Prophet at her to a page with a picture of Oliver and a gorgeous woman coming out of his room, flustered and dishevelled. His hand was gripping tightly on her arm and she looked afraid.

Wood's' Playing the Field the title read. Playboy extraordinaire Oliver Wood seems to be hitting it off lately in company with four women over the past two weeks. Last week he was seen in an embrace with Pansy Parkinson of the Homowizds and a day later with his on again off again lover Camilla Myers. But his latest conquest, Dark Lord Defeater and Healer Hermione Granger has had the gossip world on its head…

She threw down the paper and turned to Krum. "How long has this been going on?"

He shrugged, "ever since the Quidditch carnival. You've been the focus of every paper and magazine. They've been doing cover stories on your lives and anonymous sources have been giving accounts on your relationship; others are betting on how long you will last. Someone has even put down a million galleons to the Children's ward at St Mungo's if you two are still together by New Year's." He smirked as her brow rose.

Thoughts, both honorary and not, spun a deceitful web in her mind. Donating that much to the hospital, and all she had to do was appear friendly with Oliver in public for a few more weeks, would do wonders for her ward. They could update the play area for the children; buy more ingredients for potions and beds so parents could have a place to stay…

God it was tempting.

"A million galleons you say?" she shrugged casually. "They mustn't think much of the two of us."

He took a sip of his coffee, and inwardly smiled that she still knew how to make it just the way he liked it. "Well I suppose they know your reputation of being a workaholic and a recluse-" she glared at this, "-and his for being a womaniser. Actually, it wasn't a million blow out. It was 250 000 if you went with him to the Christmas Cup ball; 250 000 if you're seen together at the Cup and 500 000 if you're engaged by New Years. I mean, imagine what that could do for the hospital…" His eyes never left hers. The thing with Hermione was that you could read every expression on her pretty face. If one looked close enough, they could read her thoughts and feelings very easily. He was pretty sure what was going through her mind now.

Engaged by New Years? Not bloody likely. So it would appear she could only gamble half of that for the ward. It was still good money. And she wouldn't really be hurting anyone's feelings, would she? Wood was playing with her anyway, trying to seduce her and all. The prat. She could just make it easier for him. But in public?

Ah hell.

"Indulge me, will you Krum." She tried not to sound too interested as she sat opposite him on the counter. "What are the conditions? I mean…"

Krum sent her a devilish smile. Maggie would be pleased, after all it had been the two of them who had instigated the bet. He pulled out a few pages, torn from a wizard magazine.

She took the paper from him and her eyes bulged. Bloody hell, the media was right up their arse conspiring whether a baby was on the way; if Oliver had her locked up and chained in his home; if they were secretly married; if her absence was due to the fact that Voldemort had returned and had kidnapped her. She scoffed. Then there was a section with the wagers. Only the engagement had to be confirmed the rest had to be seen. She could manage that.

She stared up at Krum's handsome face, so similar though so very different to Oliver's; from his dark hair to the thick ashes on his brown eyes…she didn't like the look in them at the moment. "What's the real reason you came here Krum?"

Viktor sighed and took both their cups and cleaned them. "To help you of course. I know you are not in a relationship and I know your ward needs the money. Wood will be back tomorrow and I think you should do it for a while you know, until the Cup at least."

Her eyes narrowed, "Why do you care?"

"I don't, but the only way to get help St Mungo's is if you're seen with Wood. Oh and also Maggie thought you might need to get out and about to buy essentials for your time here." He saw she jaw clench as he mentioned the Bug, "and I figured you did not know your way around the area and as I do, I'd come keep you company…like old times."

"Times I would rather like to forget." She muttered silently. "And I don't need you to keep me company I've been doing fine the last two days." Days she had spent snooping around his house, reading his books and keeping far away from the naughties. Well, he was a bachelor after all, but she didn't have to like it.

"If you keep on this defensive act, I'll just have to assume you still like me Hermione," he chuckled at her glare. "Come, let me take you out…not on a date," he quickly added as he noticed her scowl, "but you need things and I'm bored. I'll give you ten minutes to get ready or I'll pick you up and take you as you are." In her jeans and Oliver's track top. He tried to hide the scowl on his face. "And no arguments."

Well she did need things…what the hell. She'd use him. "You have a problem with manners Krum, you don't force people to do things, you ask nicely." She got off the chair with a 'humph' and stalked to her room.

"Perhaps if you were being nice in the first place I wouldn't have to force you to do anything."

She responded with a curse


"Ron you idiot! Took you long enough!" complained Lavender.

Ron went straight over to his girls, his gaze softening at their little forms. "Well we're very busy, you know discussing stuff."

Lavender rolled her eyes, "Brooms and Boobs? Oh give me her," she took the little girl out of Ron's hands.

"Oi!" He said and picked up his other daughter, poking his tongue out to Lavender. "Ner there's another one."

"Oh real mature Ron." She turned to Oliver and Bobby, who stood near the corner trying to stay far away from the bickering couple. "He didn't even believe I was having twins, but I told him, now he owes me two months of babysitting."

"Two months?" asked Bobby.

"Yeah one for each kids she'd pop out, unfortunately for me, the little hand thing she did was right." Ron joked.

Lavender got a wicked idea and handed Molly-Rose to Bobby. "She won't hurt, she hasn't got teeth yet."

Bobby looked at Lavender, "She's not the one I'm worried about."

Lavender grabbed Oliver's left hand. "Palm up."

"What are you doing?" Oliver asked amused.

"Seeing how many kids you're going to have."

"Right."

She smacked him, "Stop being such a smart ass. So Hermione's with you eh?"

"How did you know?" Ron asked surprised, and started to burp Daisy.

"Well some people do divination, Ron. You'd be surprised what you can find." She started focusing on the necklace dangling over Oliver's hand. Round and round the pendant went, in a smooth rhythm, before pausing for a while. Lavenders brow creased and was about to pull away, before the pendant moved up and down in a line, then paused, before yet again moving in a line motion before spinning in a tiny circle.

Oliver sent her a devilish smile that
made Lavender swoon. "An army of kids?"

Lavender laughed, though it didn't reach her eyes. She and Ron, Harry and Ginny were having wagers that Hermione and Oliver would be in a relationship by the end of the year. A permanent one. And though they shared similar results, Oliver's first child had been a daughter. Hermione's had been a son. She knew what Ron would say, that her little trick was just that; a trick: it held no real significance. But it had yet to be wrong. She shook her head and smiled up at Oliver, though her husband hadn't missed the frown. "No, that's what Hermione said too."

"You got her into it also? So what's the verdict? "

"Well the order was a daughter, two sons and then another girl. You'll have your hands full." She went to grab Molly from Bobby who was holding the young girl away from him in case she threw up on him, and handed her to Oliver, who took the girl as if he was accustomed to it. "Wow, I'm surprised, usually men act really uncomfortable with newborns, like Ron, but you're pretty good. Rich, handsome, nice and good with kids; didn't I luck out." She joked.

"I'm nice," Ron said defensively and cooed at his daughter.

The others laughed, but Oliver was too caught up in what Lavender had revealed to him. Well not that he believed in the old wives tale, there would always be a fifty-fifty shot that his first would have been a daughter, but that revelation hit too close to home. He remembered…she was barely a day old when the doctors told them…

Bobby waved a hand in front of his face. "You alright Wood? It's the same expression on your face when I told you Jordan was taking her tits out."

Oliver snapped back from a past memory

Oliver and Bobby stayed with the couple, until Lavender had to feed the babies. Deciding to give them some privacy, they headed down to the paediatric ward, where they were met by Dom and some other nurse who were shocked and giggly at the presence of these two handsome players.

"You're looking after our Hermione I trust?" Asked Dom as he led them to where the children were "playing".

"I don't think that woman would let any man take care of her. So how's Jayden?"

"Well he's seen better days, he's much better since his last attack." Dom sighed. "Here we are."

All the kids were speechless as the two men walked toward them, some hiding behind the others though peeking as they walked pass. "We have a surprise today kids! You all know Oliver Wood and Bobby Rice from Puddlemere-" he was received with many nods and smiles. "Well they're going to stay here for a bit while you're having a time out session okay? So ask questions, get them to help you and maybe they'll talk some Quidditch with you!"

"Of course we will," they had discussed it before they entered the "playroom"; Oliver also had charmed a special card-like object so Hermione could see how all her patients were fairing. He faced the kids, charmed by their shyness; Jayden however was waving wildly at him. "And if you'd like, we want to show Doctor Granger how you all are because she misses you all in Ireland and I know wished she were here; so we have this," he pulled out the card, "so we can record any messages you'd like to send her."

They had spent an hour and a half with the children, who'd grown quite comfortable with the Quidditch players; more so than their mothers who had trouble getting words out of their mouths- probably because their tongues were hanging out. They spoke about Quidditch, played with the toys and a real snitch and had recorded amusing messages to their favourite doctor. Ron had even come to spend time with them before they headed back to the Dome.

"That was a real nice thing you did," said Dom. "I know both Hermione and the kids will appreciate it."

"Our pleasure, plus we owed some time to the kids anyway."

"We appreciate it," Dom said. "Most of the players who have done this charity stuff were quite eager to leave as soon as they could or found it difficult to connect with the children. You guys were wonderful."


Now, a weather update:

Meteorologists predict that the horrible weather the United Kingdom is experiencing is set to stay for the rest of the month, with strong, snowy winds moving south from the Arctic. A deadly snow storm is expected within the next four hours to hit Ireland, having already taken out three lives in London. It is encouraged that all residence stay indoors while the storm passes.

In other news: if I only had a brain. That's what….


"Honey I'm home." He and Bobby had just apparated to find an empty room. He started to walk around the house while Bobby lay on the couch. "Hell- Aunt Patty?" a figure had hurriedly barged into him, which he knew was not Hermione's. "Where's the fire?"

"Oh hello dear! Nice to see you again was the conference good?"

"It was bloody boring Ms Alasdair. There was absolutely no Quidditch talk at all, and all we could do was go out to the pub and spend time with all the girls. It was awful." Bobby mocked.

"I didn't see you there Bobby! Hello!" Patricia Alasdair gave him a deadly hug. "I hope you weren't hypnotised by the ladies Oliver. If Hermione found out, and then the wedding!"

Damn it, his mother had gotten to her.

"What?" blurted Bobby who sent a questioning glance to Oliver.

"Never mind Rice, I'll tell you later."

Patricia was moving from spot to spot. "Oh tell him dear, oh alright I will." But before Oliver could pounce, Patty blurted: "Oliver and Hermione are getting married, didn't you know dear? They've been bickering about it the last week!"

"Oh really?" Bobby asked, Oliver expected him to get mad, but instead a wide smile crept upon his face. "And I do believe I will have the best man honours?"

"Of course." Oliver glared at him; sending him a shut up or I'll- kill- you- or-turn- you- into- a- toad- again look. "Where is my lovely bride-to-be anyway?"

"OOOOOOOHH!" Patty hurried off to the living room, clutching a newspaper in her hands and tried to light the fireplace: perhaps she could burn it?

Oliver took the matches of his aunt and lit it himself, what was with women and the inability to light fireplaces?

"I could've done that dear. How was your trip?"

He noticed she was talking very fast and kept a keen eye at the door. She flinched when a deep roar of thunder cracked outside. "Aunt, where's Hermione? She didn't try to Floo did she?" he started to get angry. He didn't care if she didn't like his company- well maybe a little- but he told her not to do anything stupid- if she had…

More thunder boomed and the rain hit the windows hard. Bobby didn't seem to make the situation any better. "Man I'd hate to be outside now. Dead man walking."

Finally she fell apart. "Oh I'm sorry Oliver! I shouldn't of had encouraged her!"

Both men sent quizzing glances to each other. He finally started to sooth her down. "Aunt Patty, it's okay, stop crying, what shouldn't you have encouraged her to do?"

"Well, you see I came around yesterday to clean things up. And I didn't know Hermione was here," she paused, "how could you leave the poor girl here by herself anyway?" she scolded. "She said she was just on her way out to get a few things she'd forgotten yesterday, some breadcrumb man showed her around…" He swore. "But it was only light sprinkling then, and she asked me if I wanted anything and I asked if she could go down to the bakery to see if the fresh cream buns were really fresh…and well…"

He didn't realise he was squeezing is aunts arms. "AND?"

"Well dear, that was over five hours ago."

Damn Granger and her stubbornness, when he got her home he was going to lock her in his room and never let her out! Why didn't she listen? She knew what was coming when he left, the killer storm, but no she had to go out into the eye of it. If the weather wasn't going to kill her, he was. Did she dislike him that much? Oh and what was this about Breadcrumb anyway? "Did she take her wand?" she may be alright if she took her wand…please have taken your wand!

"Oh I don't know dear, really I don't. I am so sorry…" his aunt started to tear up. It wasn't a typical storm: this thing could kill. There was massive flooding in some parts of the country, in others power lines had crashed to the floor, shocking anyone in its vicinity; others were snowed in or had trees fall onto their houses; some were struck by lightning. In the past few hours, there were over 30 deaths in Ireland, 15 of them were unidentified.

"Rice, take my aunt home, I'll bring her car around later." Oliver said as calmly as he could; and both Patty and Rice knew better to argue.

"Isn't it a bit dangerous mate?" asked Bobby, who had only now realised the severity of the situation.

"No, the portal should still be up. Take her home and yourself."

"Okay mate, good luck," Bobby patted Oliver's shoulder in encouragement. "Don't get yourself killed." Bobby went outside charming the squib's car before Flooing out with Patty, leaving Oliver to seething in anger.

Oliver kept pacing, where would a rebellious stickler for the rules go? Library? Sporting store? Maybe she was that annoyed at him she went to find a motel? He didn't care; he just had to find her.

As he was pacing he stared at the floor and saw a curious imagine in the Daily Prophet. It was of Hermione and Viktor Krum. And it was today's paper. It happened yesterday.

Blind rage soared through his body as he crushed the paper in his hands. So that's how she wanted to play was it? Tease him a little by flirting with another man. His nemesis, and from what he could remember, her ex. Well, he'd just see about that. When he got his hands on her there was no way she was leaving his side again.

That's when he saw it, a long dark stick on his coffee table: the wand of Hermione Granger: she hadn't taken it. He cursed Merlin, he cursed Krum, he cursed Hermione but he blamed himself.

He ran out of the house, with no knowledge of where he was going or what he was going to do when and if he found her. All he knew was that he had to, because he'd never be able to get over her.


Black clouds moving rapidly across a deadly red sky. The wind was ferocious. Thick branches were pulled off trees and were flinging themselves about; the tiles on roofs were falling off; rain was coming down hard and fast making flooding the ground.

Oliver held his arm across his head, shielding the wind from his face. He cursed. He'd been wandering about for fifteen minutes without a sighting of the witch he was planning to hex. The town wasn't that big, surely he would've found her by now?

As if his prayers were answer he saw a tiny huddled figure making its way haphazardly about. When he saw the curly head of hair he knew it was Hermione and raced over to her before she got run over by the car coming her way.

…..

She had found that the fresh cream buns sold at the bakery down the street from Oliver's home were in fact freshly made by the bakers that day: wouldn't Patty be thrilled! She had also found that she was wand-less and stuck in a brutal storm that had killed almost 40 people within the past few hours in Ireland alone.

She also found that she had no idea where she was and in shit, literally; some sort of animal must've gotten just a little too excited and decided to spread its joy about the place.

She ducked suddenly as a large cardboard sign flew her way. "Buy Godfrey's vacuums! They'll blow your mind away!" the sign had read.

She continued to walk; somewhere, anywhere she didn't care, she just needed to get out of this storm. She saw mothers running to their Muggle cars with their children hugged tightly toward them; old men sitting on chairs at the front of looted shops drinking their life way; she saw beggars hiding in bus-stop shelters to get away from the strong winds and the torrential rain which was coming…what she didn't see was the upbringing of dirt and dust, which found its way into her eyes.

"Bloody Merlin!" she cried, and though knew it was bad, couldn't help but rub her eyes to try and remove the unwanted substance. She opened her eyes in time to see a car zooming her way, oblivious to the fact she was in its path; but she couldn't move- and just when it was about to hit her, she screamed, but not from the impact of the car, but rather a solid figure threw her out of the way and onto the hard pavement.

She stared up to see her saviour and attacker: A very angry Oliver Wood! Her head throbbed. What the hell was he doing outside; didn't he know it was dangerous?

He looked down at her glaring. "I thought I told you not to go outside? So why do I find you here?"

Well that settled it; she had enough of men ordering her around. She was going to throttle him. Hermione didn't have time to as a thick branch was blown their way; Oliver grabbed at her shoulders and flipped them out of the way. Just. Hermione thought it was amazing he saw it, since she could hardly see his face in the downpour.

His tight grip on her loosened, as he pulled them up. Without a word he grabbed her hand, almost wrenching it out of the socket, and pulled her under a bus shelter. She was about to thank him, when he snapped.

"What on earth are you doing out in his weather? If that stupid Muggle contraption…"

She glared at him, "I'm fully aware of it. And for your information, when I left it wasn't torrential…I just happened to get lost…" She added regretfully.

"For someone who is supposed to be bright, you certainly dulled the moment."

She wrenched her hand free, "I don't need you lecturing me Wood, and what are you doing out here?"

He looked toward the heavens: give me strength. "Just thought I'd take a stroll you know, hope to get concussed by a giant board of wood or if I'm lucky knocked down by a pinto."

She became aware of the click of a camera. What the hell was going on? Who was stupid enough to take photos of them in weather like this? She hoped they got injured severely.

Oliver winced and looked out. It was still torrential but they had to get back home. "Come on let's go." Grabbing her hand- she really needed to have a chat with him about his machismo- they ran together down the lane slowed down by the now calf-deep flooding.

They seemed in the all clear until a thick branch, carried by the wind, hit into shop windows, shattering glass about the place.

Unfortunately for Oliver, who had just dodged a mobile mailbox, had no time to react as the glass flung about his body. He winced in pain as it stabbed his torso and chest. He looked down to see a large piece of glass, about 15cm long and half an inch thick, lodged deeply in his skin.

"Bloody Merlin," he yelled as he yanked the shard from his chest. Blood ran freely and quickly from the wound. He lifted it to his face, and saw about two inches covered in blood. Well that explained a lot. He didn't think the weather would be so deadly, but alas, being stabbed by mobile glass would be his downfall.

"Oh god, Oliver!" Hermione stopped and lifted his shirt to check his injury. "It's…it's well not good…"

"Thank you Doctor Magoo." He flung the glass angrily on the ground with a curse and trudged on, ignoring the pain in his chest and the rest on his battered body.

She scowled at him. "It's Mr Magoo, for your information."

He heard a woman's scream a few meters from him. She was trapped behind a fallen tree and was hysterically pointing to her pram. He swore, a small, though potentially deadly tree was falling toward her pram. Thankfully he was quite agile thanks to Quidditch, and just in time, he pushed the pram away before the tree came roaring down. It clipped his shoulder and he gasped in pain as he heard a crack. The mother escaped and ran toward her child, picking it up and could not stop thanking the handsome man who rescued her baby. He told her to get out of the area, and she obediently obeyed.

Holding his battered shoulder, he cursed, wondering why not all women were obedient like the mother had been. Damn her! He told her to stay, not to do anything stupid.

Hermione looked at him, bruised and bleeding and felt a rush of warmth overcome her. When it came to her he was dictatorial, but he was rather honourable and brave. He hadn't even thought twice about rescuing the mother, and even herself. He could've been killed. She bit her lip. Was it her fault that he was out here? Was he looking for her?

She thought about that on the hazardous trip home.


Oliver gripped the couch until his knuckles were white, the pain of the thick branch hitting his shoulder was cutting into his bones; and the cut on his chest would not stop bleeding.

Hermione shut the door and rushed over to him. His shirt was drenched and was torn in many areas; his arm was limp and his handsome face twisting in pain. "Oh Oliver," she moaned as she ran her fingers up and down his body, trying to search for more wounds; if he wasn't in so much pain, he'd have had her under him in seconds.

"Keep going," he tried to hold back a groan as her hands slowly and lightly, touched his lower abdomen. He noted she rolled her eyes.

"Why is it that I always have to fix you up?" Concern etched over her face as she observed the deep cut on his chest. Hermione swallowed and tried to get a grip on herself. As she ran her hands up to his shoulder, she noted how dark, broad and hard he really was; totally masculine and…bruised he was.

"Because you don't do it right the first time," he hissed as she squeezed his shoulder. He was about to snap at her, but noted she had just removed a large piece of wood from it. "And I'm a masochist."

"You're a pain, that's what you are." She saw another splinter and gently took it out, his blood on her fingers. Bells went off in her head reminding her how unhygienic it was. But she didn't care, she just wanted him better.

"Jeez!" He wrenched his shoulder out of her hands, or tried to, but she was holding on tight and fell onto the couch beside him. They glared at each other.

She was taking an awfully long time, thought Wood. Not that he would've minded of course, but under the current circumstance he'd rather not be semi-unconscious when she was touching him- and he was rather annoyed at her too. "See anything you like?"

She scowled at him, but ignored the comment. Even if she lied, he would see through it: because well let's face it: there was a lot about him she liked, though would never admit it to him, less he get an even bigger head. "This is the same shoulder I treated in the dressing room at Puddlemere isn't it?"

"Ah does it matter?" he tried to get up and out of the Hermione's touch. But she pushed him down, concern in her eyes. "Ouch!"

"I've treated two year olds who didn't whine was much as you!" she hurried to Oliver's room and searched for the jacket she had worn to Puddlemere on that fateful day. In it she had some medical supplies and herbs she had charmed to fit in the pocket. She threw all the items around the room in a mad panic until she had found it.

Hurrying back she saw Oliver trying to take off his shirt with his free hand. "Here let me," grabbing the edges she tore and gently moved it off his shoulders and down his arms.

He never took his eyes off hers. "You're not going to use that pink crap on me are you?"

She rolled her eyes, charming the kit to its normal size. Her eyes widened as she took out the bottle. There was only enough for a small wound, and not the deep gash of Oliver's. "Look, I'm going to levitate you to the bed okay? It'll be easier for me to mend the wound then."

"Oh no you're not." He stood instantly and almost regretted it, as a wave of nausea overcame him. "I'll walk there, I have my pride!"

She glared at him, stubborn, stubborn man. "Not right now you don't, I'm helping you." She put his good arm over her shoulders and ducked under his arm, allowing her to carry his weight. Slowly they trudged to his room.

Oliver, though incredibly annoyed at her for not listening to him, was highly amused at her and her attempt to carry him. If anything he was moving her along to his bedroom, after all she was a little bit more than half his size. He hissed in pain as blood oozed from his cut, dripping onto the floor.

"Come on Oliver, just a bit more." She flung open the door and gently sat him on the bed. He started to lie down but she stopped him, any pressure he was going to put on his body, was going to make the cut worse. She cursed, "stop." She gently sat on the bed and pushed down his back to the bed, applying pressure to his cut all the way with her jacket; she then grabbed at his legs and hoisted them up onto the bed.

If the guys had seen this, he would not have been able to live it down. "I could've done that Hermione. I'm not incapacitated."

"Perhaps, but you're not very smart either." She sat up on the bed right beside him and held the jumper down hard. "Hold this; I've just got to go get a few things okay. Don't fall asleep Oliver."

He saw her go and held down her jacket which was now all bloody. "How will I know not to fall asleep if I'm asleep?" The loss of blood made him dizzy, and his eyes began to shut.

"Oh no you don't," as soon as she'd left she returned with a bowel of water and some towels. She submerged one of the smaller ones in the water and put it on his face. She then grabbed another one, did the same and cleaned his wound. She looked into his eyes, surprised how intently they were looking at her and blushed. No doubt it was how he got all the ladies to fawn over him. Which reminded her…"So how was the conference Oliver?"

He groaned as she touched his cut, "boring as usual, although Rice, Ron and I did take a few detours."

"Ron was there?" she removed the towel and soaked it in the water, reapplying it.

"Yeah, Lavender had the babies: girls just like that little ring-thing she did said she would." He chuckled, "Ron lost a bet with her and now has to baby-sit the twins for two months."

She smiled, genuinely happy for them, but upset that she couldn't be there with them. "What did she call them? Because I doubt Ron had much say." She laughed.

"Molly-Rose and Daisy-Anne. Anne and Molly are Lavender's and Ron's mothers and Rose and daisy, her favourite flowers. Win-win I suppose."

"More for Lav I think. Which is good because if it were up to Ron, he'd name them Snitch and Cannon. He almost called his son Chuddly, like the Cannons, but Lav freaked out and called him Harrison"

She took out the pink bottle and poured the remaining syrup onto her hand. "This will close most of the wound- but I still have to stitch you up. If you move, it'll open, and I haven't got enough to reapply it. So then I'll be probing at your skin with the needle without the cream, which contains a numbing agent..." she noticed she was blabbing and stopped.

"Damn," he winced, and tried to look down at the cut, and sucked up a breath, which caused more blood loss. "Are the side-effects of that…"

Hermione shrugged, "dizziness, unconsciousness, inability to control yourself…" she smirked at is expression. "But it does heal you."

"Great!" he replied, oozing with sarcasm.

"Ye have so little faith," she sighed and spread the warm lubricant over his chest.

Oliver wondered what exactly that tingling sensation was: the syrup working on his injury or her fingers massaging him. Ultimately this would've suited his little side wager, very well. Quite well. But there was still some nagging feeling at the back of his mind that wouldn't let him enjoy it. "So what have you been up to?"

She ignored him and searched her bag for a needle and thread. He didn't miss the flush in her cheeks though and his jaw clenched. She and Krum didn't re-kindle their dying flame, did they? "Did you spend much time with my aunt?"

She could hardly tell him Krum had visited, nor could she discuss the details of their conversation. She set her mind on finding the needle. Once she found it she smiled in triumph, Oliver didn't see what was so amusing about it. "Don't worry, you won't feel a thing." She thread the string through the needle, and sent Oliver an amused look, "Normally there are spells you can use to do this much quicker, but I'm feeling rather vengeful. Now lie still."

"The ethics police will be after you," Oliver sighed and closed his eyes, preparing for the pain when the needle pierce his skin, there was nothing. "You're not bad with your hands." Did Krum know that?

She saw his eyes glaze, and smiled. "More than you'll ever know."

…...

"All I have to do now is bandage it." He heard her say, and as he lay on his back, she kneeling beside him; he didn't quite know how she as going to manage. She'd have to do some serious contorting to get the bandage over the other side.

He saw her unfold some of the thick material from its roll and began to wrap it around his chest, and under his back, but the fact he couldn't move to aid her didn't help the situation. She sent him an apologetic look as she leaned over him and slipped her hand underneath his back, searching for the damned roll of tape: unfortunately for her, she was having a damned hard time grabbing it.

Meanwhile he couldn't tear his gaze away from her shoulders; if getting injured meant this sort of attention, hell, he didn't mind a stab in the chest. The room was warm from the now-lit fire, or was it an oncoming infection? and he saw that she had changed into a singlet top and pyjama pants- that she had bought? From where?

She was struggling, she probably could have used her wand to bandage him, but he was perversely please she hadn't. Her chest brushing so close to his as she reached under his back to retrieve the other side of the tape, the soft curve of her stomach touching the now hard flesh at her waist.

The more she moved the harder he got and the more he wanted to haul her beneath him and take her battered and bruised. So he hauled himself up, much to the chagrin of the witch, so that now they were eye to eye, chest to chest.

"Oliver!" he heard her call. "I told you no sudden movements! Get down!"

So she wasn't bothered that she was half on top of him, Oliver thought relieved. He looked down at his taught stomach for the cut, but found there was nothing there, except the luscious woman brushed up against him.

Her eyes gave him a clear insight to what she was thinking: she flushed, but didn't struggle. "Honestly Wood, I could've managed with you lying on the bed."

"Well now you can manage me," his eyes penetrated her. In one fluid movement, he had pinned her to the bed, their positions reversed. He chuckled, "Or I can manage you."

Not waiting for a reply, he held bother her wrists in one hand above her head and further pushed his hips into hers on the bed. She bit her lip as his obvious erection brushed up against her and spread her legs to further accommodate him. He felt her heat as he slowly brushed a fingertip at the corners of her mouth, down her nose, down her neck; following the path with his tongue. He found she was braless as his hot mouth found her nipple through her top and slowly sucked and nibbled around the areola, taunting her before he brought his mouth to hers. Her mouth only too willingly opening under the force of his own. Strange. She was supposed to be resisting him; maybe his luck had changed and she decided not to fight it. He didn't ponder with it, and instead tasted all her with a desired hunger, probing his tongue with her own until he heard a moan in her throat.

He moved his lips down her throat, tasting and nipping at her carelessly. He felt her hand hold his head, encouraging him deeper, as she arched her back toward him. When had he released them?

He almost lost it as he touched the bare skin of her chest revealing an ivory breast. But he didn't remember taking it off. Gently tracing his tongue down towards its peak, he took her fullness into his mouth…he groaned as he felt her body heating up, and mimicked his hunger to her other breast, and felt himself straining, as her hand found him and squeezed: her open desire for him, almost too overwhelming, and slightly strange…suddenly he heard a noise…like the slamming of a cupboard.

And jolted up. Sweat poured off his face, from his …dream? Ah hell! It was just a dream. The bandages were already on. He groaned.

Hermione rushed to his room, mistaking his groan of disbelief for pain. As he heard her feet thundering toward him, he quickly threw a pillow over his obvious arousal; declaring revenge, only this time, it wouldn't be a dream.

She saw him glaring daggers at her, as her hands ran along his chest, checking for more intrusions. She was taken aback by the darkness of his eyes, and the heat radiating from his body. When she tried to remove the pillow in order to get a better observation, his hand sharply halted her.

"Are you okay?" she had a genuine look of concern on her face. From the look of it, his wounds had fully cleared thanks to the syrup. "You're flushed."

Damn her, he thought. "Possibly another side effect from your poison?" he sat up, quite easily, arranging the pillow more comfortably over his bottom half. Her eyes bright and her lips between her teeth, she was still now wearing a turtleneck, no nipple in sight.

Her brow furrowed. "Let's see, unconsciousness…yes you went out of it…self-control…" she glared at him, "minimal: so normal…I suppose arrogance would also fit into that category…" he barely listened to her, until the words, "hallucinations…illusions…" came sprawling out of her mouth.

Deciding it was best to keep her from the truth of his anger; he got up and shoved his arms back into his shirt. Probably not a good idea, since his chest was still saw, but that part of his anatomy wasn't what he was concerned about now. "How did you did the bandages on?" It would hurt to check…

"I charmed them on," she said confused.

Well damn. Ignoring her he stalked to the living room needing a drink. As he passed the coffee table he noticed the paper he'd thrown on it had disappeared. Hidden away perhaps from his prying eye?

His fingers clenched, "Did you happen to move the paper that was on the table? I remember dumping it here when I went to rescue your ass; much good it did me." The look he gave her told her he wasn't happy.

She gulped. She'd gotten a copy of the paper delivered to her today, no doubt by Krum or The Maggot and had seen the article featuring herself and Krum. If Oliver had seen it- no doubt he would not have been impressed, and so she'd thrown it in the fire, hoping to Merlin he'd forgotten about it. She was wrong.

"So where is it?" annoyance made way to ebb his arousal.

"What?"

"The paper." he stood and walked over to the glass cabinet where he poured himself a drink.

Shit. "You shouldn't be drinking that!" she stalked over to him and removed the scotch from his hand. "Medicine and alcohol don't mix."

Yanking the glass back from her hands, he took a long swig: because he bloody deserved it, and glared down at her. As he took a step towards her, she took one back. He sent her a menacing smirk and turned away, pouring himself another glass. For the sole purpose of distraction and an excuse to use in case he again lost control.

She simply stared at him, what the hell was wrong? She decided to change the subject. "Where's your aunt?"

"Home."

"Oh." She was alone with him.

"Yes 'oh'." He mimicked and slumped in a chair. "There was crossword in it I wanted to do. I remember one of the clues; it was four down, four letters: someone who leads you to believe something that is not true…"

She was about to tell him she didn't know where it was, when she had realised what he had said. Liar. So he'd seen it, what was his problem! "What are you getting at Wood?"

He shrugged as he leaned back in the armchair and crossed his ankle over his knee. "Nothing, just that you're good with words, maybe you could help me?"

You're good with words… that son of a bitch. She stalked over to the kitchen to grab the Prophet that Krum had brought over, "How interesting, I was going to get you to help me out with one too! 13 across, nine letters: a person who acts in contradiction to his or her stated beliefs or feelings. Got any idea?"

Hypocrite. He looked up at the article of him and the courtesan. So she had seen it. "Tony Blair?"

She hit him with the paper, "you're getting snippy with me for hanging around with Krum when you were gallivanting around with several lovers? You're a hypocrite."

She wanted to rip that brow that rose so condescendingly, so arrogantly on his face. It contradicted the flush of anger crawling within him. "The difference is that you were actually with Krum on your own accord and I was set up!"

"Oh that's rich, so this half naked woman just happened to find herself in your room and…" she took a breath, this was none of her business, but it still stung. Later when she had enough time to think, she would come to realise how odd the whole situation was; that it had been a Rita Skeeter article…that everything seemed a little too contrived. But now was not the time for reasoning; Oliver was acting like a possessive, arrogant ingrate and she did not need another one in her life. "And anyway if I were to date Krum again- which I am most definitely not- or any other man for that matter, it would not concern you at all!"

She was disgusting wrong about that. As long as he was in her life, he'd be the only man focussed in it. He was not going to let her play games. "Think again sweetheart; as long as you're with me, you're mine."

She pushed him back down as he stood, ignoring the ripple of delight at his words. She was pathetic. She suspected the mix of alcohol and medicine had something to do with his attitude. "Oh for heaven's sake Wood, I can only handle one overbearing beast at a time. He came over and wanted to keep me company; he thought I might need…things."

He shook his head. "So what a man asks you to do something with him and you automatically do it, except with me?" his body started to tense, his patience was waning.

"No, unlike you he gave me a choice," well not really. "He didn't just apparate me somewhere without my consent, as you did." Her eyes shot daggers at him as she lied.

"Oh well sorry for being hospitable, remind me to consult the cheater Krum when I want to improve my disposition." he muttered. Then he glared at her. "You didn't think it was suspicious that he showed up at my front door. Wanting to spend time with you?"

She rolled her eyes, "Surprisingly Wood, people do want to spend time with me. But yes, I thought it was a little odd, though since he knew the area and I needed clothes I figured I'd use him. I just didn't expect to be interrogated by reporters…" She sat on the armrest of his chair, not knowing why it was so important that he believe her. "Skeeter has had a grudge with me for years Wood, she'd do anything to try exploit me and mine…and this situation between the both of us-" she blushed, "-well what the public believes anyway, is the perfect opportunity to do so. I was a little taken aback by the photo of you in the paper, and now that I think of it, this whole thing wreaks of sabotage. It seems too coincidental; I just don't know why people are making such a big deal of it." She saw him relax a little with that admission, and she found she truly did believe it. He wasn't like that. Now to get him to believe her. "And there is no way I'd go out with Krum…again! I learned from my mistakes the first time Oliver and I'd never do it when I know you hate him and when you've been so good to me." She hadn't known she'd been holding his hand and quickly let go, distracting herself by picking up the paper and throwing it in recycling bin. When she came back the tension in the room had eased and they sat in silence for a few minutes.

She decided to break the tension, "So what's the verdict? Is the game still on? Hello?" she waved a hand in front of his face.

He shook from his reverie; she said she'd believe him. What a relief! He decided she was right, perhaps someone was after them, and he eased off about Krum. "What? Oh right yeah, it's still on. The board decided we were wizards for a reason so we should use magic to shield us." He shrugged, "No big surprises there, we're professionals after all. As for the other thing…"

She was looking right at him, knowing what was coming. Convincing herself that she didn't care. 'Hmm?"

He was looking at her intently now, watching for a flicker of emotion. "The article you do believe it's a load of crap…"

She butted in, she didn't want to talk about it, "it's none of my business what you do or who you see Oliver; you don't have to explain anything to me. But in this case yes, I believe you."

"So you had no reaction when you read it?"

She shrugged but her jaw was clenched, "At first I figured it was a typical Wood thing to do, nothing out of the ordinary."

Nothing out of the ordinary? "You think I do this on a weekly- not scrap that, daily basis? Your opinion of me is outstandingly poor…"

Had she hit a nerve? She smiled to herself, good. "It took an angry, over-bearing male to get me to realise that maybe I judged him too soon but I mean you must admit, history seems to be repeating itself doesn't it? You're seen with a different woman every week, why shouldn't it surprise me?"

Because damn her, for the moment he wanted her! He dismissed the notion as soon as he'd thought it, annoyed and embarrassed for thinking it.

"Anyway, it seems we've both forgiven each other," she smiled at him and playfully punched his shoulder, changing the subject. "What's for dinner?"

He gripped her arm as she began to rise. It wasn't at all gentle. "Do you believe it Hermione?"

She furrowed her brow and glanced at the arm tightly holding her grip. Why wouldn't he drop it? "I told you I don't, and I know that generally you're not a violent person," she looked at his hand on her arm, "at least I'm pretty sure you're not."

Realising what he was doing he let go of her as if he'd been zapped. "None of it's true, she was in my room when I came back from the bar with Ron and Bobby. She's an, er, old friend and said I had called her for a rendezvous. I hadn't. She wouldn't get out so I picked her up and removed her…when I opened the door there were reporters, as if they knew…bloody hell. Next minute I know I'm on the front of every paper…"

She could tell he was getting angrier by the minute so she put up a hand to stop him. "It's ok Oliver, I believe you-"

He couldn't take it; did she really believe him or was this some sort of game she was playing? Could he trust her? He really wanted her to know there was something more to him than looks, money and sexuality. He wanted her trust. He wanted her. She looked so soft and welcoming in front of him, he lost control: knowing full well that this wasn't a dream. With a growl, he yanked her on top of him on the armchair, so she was straddling him and pulled her face towards his.

Hermione couldn't believe it; the innate look of longing and heat in his eyes had caused a tumultuous ramble of emotions churn within her. Her stomach did flips and she felt shivers cascading through her body in anticipation; he hadn't even kissed her yet. She was surprised however when his lips missed her mouth and moved to her ear. She shivered at his words.

"Are you sure…" he couldn't help nipping at her ear and ran his fingertips up her thighs. He continued to nuzzle her neck with his mouth; lightly kissing his was up to her mouth smiling, as she gave him better access to it.

She closed her eyes, if he was trying to seduce some authenticity out of her, well, she'd let him, but just this once. She wanted to feel his mouth on her lips, her neck, his hands caressing her body; hear him whisper dirty nothings in her ear as he slowly removed her clothes…but then common sense he damned pride got the better of her; there was a wager to be won! On opening, she saw the desire in his eyes, knowing full well that they reciprocated her own; they were on dangerous ground. "I think the medicine is getting to you Oliver." She said quietly; because if he did make a move on her, she wouldn't be able to stop herself.

"I think you know the answer to that," he gave her a frustratingly unsatisfying peck on the lips and let her go.

Hermione shakily removed herself from his lap and felt a pang of confusion and longing she'd never experienced before. She hated fighting herself about what she wanted and what was right; the choices she made and those she let slip. She helped him up, ordered him to get some sleep helped him to his bed in silence. She turned from him, heading toward her room needing to get away and think; she wiped an angry tear away before it could fall. She laughed helplessly at herself, why the hell was she crying? Complete uselessness, her stupid conscious said, so she knocked that bastard off her shoulder. Before she left him, his husky voice trailed from the bed.

She turned to the handsome man, "Yes?"

"In my bag, there's an enchanted card for you…" he told her the spell and she left him, with a solid shut of the door.

Getting the pink card out his bag, Hermione wondered what was so bloody important about it. Muttering the spell, she wasn't prepared for the bright light blasted from the card.

She then saw a figure, and scrunching her eyes recognised it as Lavender. "Oh!" she sighed in delight. She recognised it as the maternity ward at St. Mungo's. Ron was there too, with Oliver and Bobby…and she smiled, the baby girls were there too.

"Hello Hermione!" Ron had shouted, earning a scold from annoyed Lavender who had just put the girls to sleep. "Oh right…"

"Ignore that idiot, Hermione! We just thought we'd say hello and tell you about the good news!" she had then drawled on about the birth and the details only a woman would appreciate: which in turn, produced disturbed mutterings from the three men who probably could've done without the information. "Well you try delivering twins!" she had yelled at them. "Twenty stitches Hermione! I feel like turkey!"

Hermione laughed at Ron's suddenly pale face; as he took the limelight away from his wife. He lifted a bandaged hand. "A violent turkey." He then smiled at her, "I hope you're well Hermione; just enjoy the break you need it." He then turned to Oliver, "I'm sure he's taking good care of you, but if he's not I'll fix him up when the Floo network is back in operation," he raised his brows suggestively. She blushed, and didn't miss the surprised expression on Oliver's usually unreadable face.

Hermione smiled, the fifteen minutes in which she saw Ron and his girls cheered her up immensely, knowing they were doing well made her day. Thinking the "video" was finished she placed it on the table, ready to go to Oliver and thank him. Then she heard a voice…or rather a barrage of voices.

"DOC!" six little voices thundered from the card. She quickly picked it up to see all her little patients, well and cheery as they battled for the limelight.

"Oi!" Dom's thunderous voice boomed. "Important people first!" he then sent her a wide Cheshire smile. "Stuck in a house with a gorgeous man for a month! My, don't you have it hard," he whispered so the children didn't hear. She set a reminder to hex him when she returned. "Sweetie, we're all well here, seriously….." he then droned on about the statistics and latest news about each of her patients. "Oliver and Bobby surprised us though. Stayed a while with all the kids and their folks, chatting and playing games with them…" Hermione was surprised to say the least; sacrificing his Quidditch to see some sick children in St. Mungo's…it even harder for her to remain indifferent to him.

"Poor Mrs. Fletcher was about to have a coronary when she saw Oliver, you know how much she loves the man. And when he smiled at her…I think it was half an hour before her palpitations eased. I had to give her a shot."

Hermione laughed at his bitching for the next ten minutes. Then her patients forced their way through. "Hallo Doc! When are you coming back! Nurse Dom is saying he's our doctor now…Doc I'm scared!"

"Doc, can you tell Jayden to stop pulling my hair," said Cassandra and then left.

"Don't listen to her," it was Jayden turn. He was in bandages and on a drip. Her heart went out to him. "Doc, can you marry Oliver Wood so he can visit us again?" she scoffed with laughter and heard another voice behind her chuckling away.

Oliver Wood stood, leaning against the doorway delightfully shirtless. His arms were folded and he was looking at her intently. She felt herself heat up at his glance. She smiled at him and turned to the card again.

"Doc, do you know where my Lala Teletubby is? I think Jayden stole it. Can you tell him to give it back?"

"I got a puppy!" said Charlie. "I named him Dom."

Hermione laughed at that, and saw Dom behind the kid making a strangling gesture. And so Hermione continued to watch for the next ten minutes, laughing and overly emotional in seeing her little family safe and sound. It eased her to know they were doing alright, though she still missed them terrible; it may give her a chance to settle calmly in Ireland for a while…Yeah right, not with the man behind her.

"We miss you Doc! Have a good holiday!" the card closed with their waves and well wishes. She smiled, wiping the tears from her eyes. She put a hand to her mouth, and glanced up at Oliver, who was at the doorway, with that same sensual gaze that made her shiver inside.

He had done that for her. More tears of happiness and confusion left her eyes and she hurriedly rid them. Damn Wood, she thought with a slight laugh, he really was making it too hard for her.

His eyes never left hers and she walked up to him. She really was beautiful, he thought, even at her most vulnerable. Especially then. She smiled widely at him and continued to wipe her eyes.

Though knowing he was injured, she grabbed him in a tight hug, wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her head on his chest.

She felt and looked so small and delicate in his arms, her head just reaching his shoulders. He brought his arms around her waist, resting his hands on her full hips and putting his chin gently on her head.

"Thank you." She kept muttering, over and over; her warm tears running down his chest. Neither of them let go, and it was a while before Hermione realised this. Reluctantly she let go of his shoulders and looked up at him; unaware of the proximity of his face to hers and accidentally brushing her lips with his own.

The jolt forced her back, and laughing she disguised her shock by wiping the remaining tears from her eyes. "Oh well," she chuckled, now wiping her face for no reason. Get away her conscious said. Hadn't she knocked that bastard off her shoulder? "Oliver I…I don't know what to say! You didn't have to…but oh, it was so good to hear them!" she blabbed. "I don't know how to thank you…"

He smiled at her, "I'm sure I can think of a way," he ducked a pillow to the head and laughed, turning back toward his room.


SS